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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227893">Easy Going</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder'>wtfmulder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Deepthroating, F/M, Fluff, PWP, Smut, season of secret sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompter asked for deepthroating. This is like.... two-thirds banter and having sfw fun in the car, then the rest of it is deepthroating. I just like writing about them talking to each other!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Easy Going</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have more plot in my Stardew Valley game than this fic has.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>They were on a long stretch of middle American road, far away from anything close to civilization you counted the cows on the other side. Mulder managed to pull into the grass before the engine totally petered out. Checking under the hood, there was nothing either of them could do without a supply of very specific tools. It’d be a couple hours before a tow truck would come to help them out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At first they played a few of their standard car games. I Spy was no fun in an area with such limited scenic stimulation, but Mulder did get her good when he spied a tiny lovebug clinging to its mate on the windshield. I spy with my little eye, something... indecent. Something primal. I spy two bugs fucking on the windshield, Scully. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They played hangman on a gas receipt. Scully chose the word <em>Jazz: </em>so deceptively simple, but no one ever chose Z until it was too late. He’d been absolutely tickled to lose that one. How clever. She then told him a mathematician had run it through a computer several times and found it to be, statistically, the most difficult word to guess in a game of hangman. So she cheated. It wasn’t cheating, Mulder, it was math. I can’t believe you’d debase yourself to win a game of hangman, what a little nerd. Shut up Mulder. Cheater. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then they read for a little bit. He had brought <em>Perdido Street Station</em> with him, one of those rare books they both seemed to enjoy, so he read it out loud to her, his low voice a perfect match for the bizarre, dangerous fantasy world constructed by Mieville. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I<em> do not dream</em>, der Grimnebulin. I am a calculating machine that has calculated how to think. I do not dream. I have no neuroses, no hidden depths. My consciousness is a growing function of my processing power, not the baroque thing that sprouts from your mind, with its hidden rooms in attics and cellars...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then they were content to sit in silence for a bit. His comforting voice lulled her into a small nap, from which she woke up to Mulder staring at her. She arched an eyebrow in question. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The consistency of human emotional response across cultural boundaries is so great that a good amount of our dreams are universal.” He lifted up one of her hands from her lap and kissed her knuckles. “Scully, how often do you dream about failing organic chemistry?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It wasn’t orgo,” she sighed. “It was German. I wasn’t very good at it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Niemand ist perfekt,“ he offered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh come off it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ich bin ein Berliner.” He brought both of their hands down to the console, simply holding hers while they continued to wait. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She watched him, unselfconscious. They had about forty-five minutes left to wait. She hadn’t been dreaming about class at all, she’d been dreaming about him, and he looked so good with his oxford all ruffled up from the amount of time they’d spent in the car.  The aftershave was new, surprisingly sexy, a single tell in his outward appearance or overall bearing that anything in their relationship had changed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her hand squeezed his, and she brought it up to her mouth to brush her own lips over his knuckles. He gave a little fluttery laugh of embarrassment. She kissed each one, caught his eyes when she twisted in her seat, and unfolded his index finger to slide it into her mouth. She held his gaze as she sucked on it, ran her tongue over the pad of his finger, and watched his eyes darken, his jaw fall slack.  “Du <em>bist</em> perfekt,” he said, voice hoarse. She chuckled around his finger, slipped it out of her mouth, and rubbed the lipstick away from his hand with her thumb. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was half-hard when she kissed him and unbuckled his belt. She rubbed him through his pants, grinning against his mouth when he moaned and rolled his hips up to meet her. When she pulled away to check for any passing cars or voyeuristic cattle, he tilted his head back on the headrest and panted from his swollen mouth. Her lips fell to the mole on his cheek, the corner of his mouth, while she worked to undo his fly and pull his cock out from the hole in his boxers. Then she stroked him to full hardness, watching as the glistening tip disappeared and reappeared in her fist, and lowered her head to take him into her mouth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“God, Scully.” His fingers slid into her hair, gentle and weightless as she tongued at the head of his cock, wetting it, sucking it into her mouth with a quick pop. That made him groan and the sound made her wet, made her wish she had something to grind on as she sucked him off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The angle was awkward but she found if she backed off, pressed her ass as close to the door as she could, and leaned forward enough that she was entirely draped over the center console, she was able to take him in deeper, slide her lips down the thick length of him. Halfway through, she pulled back to lap around the head again, rubbing the tip of her tongue against his slit in a way that made him curse. Then she ducked back down, swallowed him deeper, and hummed when moved from her head to stroke down her huddled back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck,” he sighed. She wished they were in bed or somewhere she could see his face. She enjoyed how responsive he was; it made it a lot easier for her to relax and let go. But this had an allure all of its own -- they were technically on a case, breaking rules, out in <em>public</em>. Her mouth watered and she used her spit to jerk him off. She broke away, panted to catch her breath, leaned back in, and this time she swallowed him to the root. She had never done that to him before. “Oh my <em>fuck--” </em>he broke off into an anguished groan. Damn it, she really wished they could see each other. She knew what a mess she must look like already, lipstick smeared, slick down to her chin, but she wanted to see <em>him</em> with his head thrown back, his eyes closed, lashes fanning out over his cheeks, his face <em>ruined</em>. She wanted to break him with pleasure. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Relaxing her throat, she breathed in through her nose and started to bob her head in his lap. A couple of times she gagged and had to pull away, but it was nothing that sent her warning signals or persuaded her to stop. He opened his eyes every time she did that to make sure she was okay. A little slower, then, but he seemed to like that even more. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He warned her in the sweetest way, a suck of air through gritted teeth, his hand bunched up in her blouse, her name tumbling through his lips. “Scully,” pant. “Scully, god, baby...” pant. <em>Baby</em>. What? Say it again. Say it again. “<em>Baby</em>,” god yes, “I’m going to come,” he choked out. She squeezed his thigh to give him the go ahead, so he held on to her shirt and to the door for dear life as he spilled over into her mouth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallowed, wiping her lips on the back of her hand and and straightening up to capture her breath. Sorted through the glove compartment for a napkin. Fixed herself in the mirror. While she did this, Mulder tucked himself away inside his pants and buckled his belt, wheezing out a laugh as he did so, surprised and a little overwhelmed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said something about universal dreams, Mulder?” Scully asked, reapplying her lipstick. He laughed out loud. </p>
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